


Feast of St. Valentine

by themodernmerlin



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:08:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22783051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themodernmerlin/pseuds/themodernmerlin
Summary: A gift for PlushyButton's for the Crawly's Angel's Valentines day exchange. Aziraphale is nervous about a lot of things in life, but a certain demon and a special holiday ends up helping him start moving forward.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 27
Collections: Crawly's Angels Valentine's Day Exchange





	Feast of St. Valentine

The angel has never truly intended to fall in love, nor would he have truly intended that the object of his desire, the thoughts that lead him down a dangerous path towards...well, self-awareness and actualization, be a literal demon. Yet, he was almost instantaneously smitten with the being known as Crowley. Perhaps because he himself was flawed, at least in his mind.  
He had been told off plenty of times for his faults, you ask too many questions Aziraphale, Don’t question the Almighty, Aziraphale--he had accepted this position on earth because he had been threatened with a stern warning about how he was getting dangerously close to being cast out himself. He didn’t want to be, absolutely not, he just wanted to be good, to properly fit in with the rest of the crowd--and the only questions he was asking is why the Almighty had to be so harsh about the rebellious angels. Not all of them were as bad as Satan, many were just..wondering what the plan was, asking questions.  


There was no sin in asking questions, surely? But the only answer was how it was part of the plan, that Great Ineffable Plan, and the rebellious angels opposed it. Asking too many questions made you too much like them, and Aziraphale needed to watch himself.  
So when he was offered the job of guarding the Eastern Gate of Eden, and being on apple tree duty, he set himself hard at work guarding the nice young man and nice young woman in the Garden. He chatted with them, despite being told not to--guardians aren’t supposed to befriend their charges, Aziraphale--because it was awfully boring otherwise.  


Of course, he quickly saw the demon, the big old horned snake that showed up in the Garden, but he wasn’t sure of how he should proceed, so he settled upon observation. The demon didn’t seem like the typical one, or at least what he personally expected of a demon. Certainly hadn’t been expecting to witness at one point, the demon change into a human shape--a rather striking one too, if Aziraphale let himself think on it. However, he very quickly realized he had thought too much on it, considering that Eve was simultaneously biting into a very nice apple (they never say what the apple tasted like, but it was a honeycrisp) and sharing it with Adam. Well, Aziraphale had thought at the time, there goes any hope of promotion.

The gift of a sword had been instant, not something he was actively thinking of in his panic about what had just occurred. In hindsight, he supposed he thought nothing else could be worse, he had failed at preventing them from eating the apple--so what’s the loss of a flaming sword anyway? Besides, he wasn’t very good with it--kept dropping it, nearly set fire to the garden more than once--they needed it far more than him. He shooed them out of the Eastern Gate, and settled off to the top of the walls, watching fretfully.  
He wasn’t expecting company, least of all that very lovel--terrible, evil, totally uninteresting demon to come join him. Nor did he expect to chat with him. He stuttered and stammered, nervous--but Crawley gave him such a genuine compliment about doing good, Aziraphale could feel that it was real, or at least he was hoping strongly enough. Either way, Crawley sought shelter under his wings, which Aziraphale gave immediately with no hesitation. They waited out the storm together, chatting idly before parting ways. You’re not supposed to talk to the Opposition, Aziraphale. Certainly not supposed to lie about misplacing a sword either, but Aziraphale tactfully never brought it up again. So he left the Garden, not really wanting to report back to the head office to be yelled at again, and dedicated himself to doing good deeds amongst humanity--and thwarting the wiles of the Devil, or at least that nice demon he had met.

The second time he ran into Crowley, Aziraphale had been recovering from another royally stern talking-down-to by the higher-ups again. All he had wondered is if they could fit a few more people onto the Ark, at least some children--surely children could be given God’s mercy? A big flood seemed a waste and quite frankly seemed awfully unkind--sure they were flawed but hadn’t She made them like that? Why punish them for what was just innate. He had politely brought up his concerns and only gotten yelled at. The Almighty is ineffable, you cannot question her. Don’t you want to be a good angel, Aziraphale? We’ve told you about this.  
Aziraphale had protested, “Why must so many die, what will make them believe we are good if we do such harm?” You know the plan, the Almighty will promise them not to do it again. Be a good angel, stick to the plan. So he stuck, because he was too scared of what it meant to be a bad angel, or worse, a fallen angel.

He had been working with humans for nearly a thousand years now, it was lonely work--but he had bonded with them, he had even broken rules about eating in order to become close with humanity. Not that Aziraphale particularly minded this specific breach of heavenly conduct, the first time he had eaten any food was a truly magical experience, his hosts had assumed he was starving with how grateful he was for their food. Ever since then, he found himself indulging and growing ever more fond of humanity. Which is why he wished, so deeply, that as he stood watching the slow march of animals towards the ark, he could scream for people to climb aboard, to make their own boats, wait out the coming storm. Almost brought him to tears, the thought of the sweet people beside him, dying. Sure they were flawed but they didn’t deserve their deaths either.  
Then a familiar voice spoke, and, despite every bit of self preservation that should be in Aziraphale’s corporeal body, his heart leapt just a little bit having heard him. Crawley. Probably come to laugh at the misfortune of humanity, their terrible fates that he must have had some role in bringing about. But no, Crawley came to ask what was happening, and seemed properly horrified when Aziraphale gave an answer. “Kids? You...you can’t kill kids.” That, that surprised Aziraphale more than anything--surely an action must be evil if even a demon sees it as such?  
The realization shook him, made the angel panic internally at the conflict he felt. What if upstairs was wrong? What if he was in the wrong by letting this happen to people? The panic of the internal crisis that the discussion brought up meant that despite his instructions, Aziraphale absolutely did look the other way as Crowley snuck several small children into the arc, and if he made sure they also got fed--then well...maybe that was for the best.  


Years passed, centuries, as Aziraphale felt his disillusionment with the establishment grow deeper, and deeper. Every report was just rubber stamped, and the amount of meetings he had been invited to had dropped to nil--it really was just Aziraphale and Crowley, as he was now preferring to be called, here, alone. So it was only natural, to Aziraphale, that they would finally end up talking more and more. Every discussion, every meeting brought joy to Aziraphale in a way he had not felt in literal millenia-- sheer happiness, that made him feel giddy and at peace. Crowley made Aziraphale feel like a good person in a way that his work had never made him feel before.  
They were in the court of Aethelred the Unready, both serving as his advisors, though if Aziraphale had to be honest, Crowley was doing a much better job of destabilizing his rule than Aziraphale was of stabilizing it--but it was an excuse for them to be together, and quite frankly, it was the best thing in the world.  


Aziraphale had retired to his rooms, thinking about today’s saint’s day feast--Crowley had spent time almost exclusively with him, chatting about the kingdom, about the job, about each other. It had been an absolutely beautiful evening, and Aziraphale’s heart swelled with joy ten times over remembering it. A long discussion of the absolutely atrocious fashion of some of the guests--Aziraphale gushing enthusiastically over the taste of the salmon pie and the candied fruits imported for the occasion, of Crowley complimenting his outfit for the evening, and a long talk about possibly trading off some of the blessings and temptations they had to do in the upcoming months. His reverie was broken by a gentle knock at his chamber door, which heralded Crowley entering the room. “Angel--I, I’m sorry I should have realized I was talking to much at dinner, I wanted to say sorry for being a bother.”  


In all these years, Crowley had never seemed as nervous, or as sweet as he did in this moment to Aziraphale. Handsome, a word that popped into his head every time he saw Crowley, again entered his thoughts--but this time absolutely filling his mind as Aziraphale came to the sudden realization of how much love he felt for Crowley, how much he wanted him, and cared for him. Years and years of pure disillusionment with how he was raised, how he was taught to think--finally broke the last barrier Aziraphale kept placing on himself, and the angel realized that maybe, just maybe--he could allow himself this. Allow himself to be happy, and to ignore his boss’s orders.  
“You aren’t, Crowley,” The angel replied, standing up to close the door behind his friend, taking his hand. “I--tonight was wonderful, I loved every moment with you.” Faintly Aziraphale had remembered something he had been taught about what choices would be like for humanity to make--like jumping off a very high building, and not knowing if you would land safely. Now Aziraphale understood where the analogy came from, as he stood at the precipice of finally coming to terms with how he felt. “I love every moment I spend with you….and if I could, I would spend a great many more at your side.”

Aziraphale could not have expected how eagerly, and how deeply Crowley returned the feelings, considering how suddenly he was wrapped up in Crowley’s arms, being kissed by the demon. Just as quickly as it started, it ended however, Crowley blinking and stuttering an apology from behind his glasses. “I’m sorry, Aziraphale I shouldn’t pres--” Aziraphale cut off his demon’s sentence by pulling his arms tight around Crowley, and returning the kiss just as deeply and eagerly as it had been given. Aziraphale, you know you shouldn’t….  
The nagging thoughts went quiet as the kiss continued, and finally the angel felt truly at peace, and at home, right here in a demon’s embrace. As he pulled away, a smile at his lips, Aziraphale quietly noted the date, telling himself that he would never forget it. February 14th, the Feast of St. Valentine--and now, Aziraphale and Crowley’s anniversary.


End file.
